


The Future Repeats Itself

by addictcas



Series: The Future Repeats Itself [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Mostly Enemies), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angel Castiel, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Chuck is God, Coming Out, Croatoan Virus, Daddy Issues, Dimension Travel, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Endverse Castiel and Lucifer Frenemies, Episode: s05e04 The End, Episode: s11e22 We Happy Few, Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks to Endverse, Human Castiel, M/M, Religious Conflict, Season/Series 11, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictcas/pseuds/addictcas
Summary: Cas fought his way through croats and demons for seven years after Lucifer killed Dean, looking for a spell he knew could send him out of the hellhole he was in. When he found it, he realized that the universe he had hope in could be worse than the one he left behind.Starts during season 11 episode 22: We Happy Few.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've always wanted to bring Endverse Cas (from Zachariah's Croatoan alternate universe) into the main universe, and what better time than when his body is being used as a meatsuit for Lucifer! I'm cruel, I know.
> 
> There will be a prequel coming soon about 2009 Dean's visit to 2014 and his history with Camp Chitaqua's Cas.

Dean is just getting over the wave of nausea caused by being zapped from one room to another by God himself (it packs more of a punch than Angel Airways) when there’s a knock at the door.

“Who the hell could that be?” he asks Sam, who merely shrugs. “Let’s not all rush up and get it at once,” Dean snarks at his brother’s lack of movement, even though he’s still sitting on his ass as well.

Sam groans and pulls Ruby’s knife out of his jacket and Dean grabs his favorite Colt from the back of his jeans.

“You got holy water on you?” Dean asks. Sam just gives him this “no shit, Sherlock” look he’s so good at.

They wobble a little on their way to the front door, still slightly disoriented, but nothing beats the head rush Dean gets when Sam swings the door open.

“What the hell?” Sam breathes out. The man outside sways on his feet, a lowered rifle in his hands and a beat up duffel bag hung over one shoulder. _Dean’s_ duffel bag. “Cas?”

Except Castiel is downstairs, playing host to the devil himself who’s working out his daddy issues. And he sure as hell doesn’t look like _this_. Skinny and dirty and disheveled with several shades of purple under his eyes. Dean has only seen Cas like this once. That version of him being here, now, is impossible.

The man outside blinks his bloodshot eyes blearily. Sam seems to get a grip (something Dean has yet to acquire), and splashes holy water in Maybe-Cas's face. The guy doesn’t even seem to notice. Not a demon.

The man (Cas?) smiles crookedly and mumbles, “It actually worked,” before his eyes roll back and he falls to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam stand there for a few moments, dumbfounded. After Dean figures they’ve left the body there long enough, he makes a move to approach the strange, Cas-like being.

“Shapeshifter?” Sam asks.

If it is a shapeshifter, it did a really terrible job. Dean pulls out his silver pocket knife and rolls up the man’s sleeve. His arm is already so scarred. Dean guiltily makes a new cut. No reaction.

“Lucifer left him?” Sam suggests in an awkward tone that shows that he can guess what Dean will think about that suggestion.

The idea is ridiculous. Dean turns to him with an expression that tells him so. “So within less than a minute Lucifer took off with about 40 lbs of Cas’ body weight, dropped him off to get changed at a dirty army surplus store, gave him a beard, some scars, some weed, and a gun, and then plopped him back at our doorstep?”

Sam shrugs. “What is it then?”

“Who,” Dean corrects. “I think I know who he is.”

Sam stares at him, waiting for an answer. Dean doesn’t want to tell him his theory because it’s bat-shit crazy. Fortunately, they have the perfect person–actually, deity–to tell them.

Dean folds his hands and clears his throat, closing his eyes. “Um… Dear Heavenly… Chuck. Could you please meet me and Sam at the front door and make sure Lucifer stays where he is? Uh, thanks. Amen.”

Sam has a mildly bemused expression on his face. It’s Dean’s turn to shrug. “What? I didn’t know how to pray to God before, how the hell am I supposed to know how to pray to him now that I know he’s Chuck?”

Dean jumps about a foot into the air when Chuck appears in a near-blinding flash of light between the two brothers.

Dean blinks rapidly, seeing black spots everywhere. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but it’s fun,” Chuck says happily. “Why did you bring me up here?” He asks as his tone turns more serious. “It better be important. I think Lucifer and I were making progress.”

Dean doubts it. He gestures through the front door to the collapsed body. Or, at least, that’s where Dean  _ thinks _ he gestures at. He can’t exactly see at the moment.

Dean hears the sharp intake of breath when Chuck sees the possible Cas. “Oh, my poor child.”

Dean thinks the words are an odd sentiment coming from God, who so far has proven to be a bit of a heartless dick. “Is that who I think it is?” Dean asks. He honestly doesn’t know what answer he wants to hear.

Chuck steps outside and places his hand over the being’s (human’s?) forehead. Dean steps outside to get a closer look since his vision is about 20/1000 right now. Chuck’s eyes are closed and he has a frown on his face. When he opens his eyes, he looks up at Dean and nods. “This is the fallen Castiel from the universe Zachariah sent you to in 2009.”

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes out.

Chuck hovers his glowing hands over Cas’ body from head to toe as Dean tries to process.

“So you’re telling me that that wasn’t just some mindfuck your wonderful dick of a son played on me to get me to say yes to Michael? That this Cas has been living in that shithole for about seven years after Lucifer killed his douchebag Dean?” Dean clenches his fists as Chuck continues to do whatever the fuck he’s doing. Healing, examining, reading Cas’ aura. Not answering Dean. “All of those people at the camp are real?”

“Were real,” Chuck says.

That doesn’t clarify much. “You mean the world was real, but now it’s not? Or the people were real, but now they’re…”

“Dead. Or croats,” Chuck explains simply, as if all of those lives didn’t matter. Dean is about to ask about that timeline’s Chuck when the celestial being speaks again. “I’ve healed all of the organs that have been damaged by substance abuse: the heart, lungs, brain, kidneys, and liver. His physical dependency on self-destructive substances is now gone. He also had a few broken ribs, some minor fractures, a partially collapsed lung, and a concussion that I have healed.”

Dean scoffs. “Well aren’t you just the good Samaritan?”

“Dean,” Sam warns.

“It’s okay,” Chuck says. “Let’s get him downstairs.” God picks up his abandoned son and carries him through the threshold while Sam grabs the duffel and gun.

“Wait,” Dean calls out to them when they start heading towards the stairs. “Shouldn’t you just zap him into my room? We don’t want Lucifer to see him. Or for Cas to wake up and see Lucifer riding around in his vessel.”  _ Oh God _ . This Cas is not going to be happy when he finds out.

Chuck starts his descent down the stairs. “This fragile human has traveled from a different timeline and just barely survived. I’m not sure his body could handle a celestial method of transport, even after being healed. Plus,” he adds, “I told Lucifer to stay put.”

Dean snorts. “You think the most rebellious angel you ever created is going to just sit and stay like a good little dog?”

“Let’s hope so,” Chuck says.

Dean hurries up, wanting to get a better look at the Cas he met briefly many years ago. He had looked bad then. The fallen angel looks so much worse now. Cas’ cheeks are sunken in and he’s very pale. He’s even skinnier than he was before. This human Cas has a scar on his eyebrow that wasn’t there last time, along with some new ones he had on his arm that Dean saw when he did the shifter test.

Dean is sure that if he took off Cas’ clothes he would find even more than he found last time. Like that deep slash, running down from his pelvic bone to his thigh. Dean was told that the knife that caused it almost nicked his femoral artery. When Dean showed deep concern, Cas had looked at him with a mix of shock and adoration and kissed him.

_ “I love you, I love you, I love you…” _

_ “Cas…” _

_ “You don’t have to say anything…” _

Dean is jolted from the memory by an unwelcome but not unexpected appearance.

“Oh look, a new toy!” Lucifer cheers, bouncing up and down on his feet as he rounds the corner to the bottom of the stairs.

Dean and Sam try to shield Cas’ body but Lucifer worms his way in between them. “Oh my Dad,” Lucifer gasps theatrically. “What in the world is that disaster?”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Dean tells him, trying to push him away to no avail.

Chuck looks slightly ashamed. “Lucifer, I told you to stay put.”

“I know. Bad Satan.” He pouts mockingly.

“Get away before I make you,” Chuck growls threateningly. The lights in the bunker flicker for a moment.

“Ooo, point taken, pops.” Lucifer turns to leave but Dean grabs his elbow. The devil is still wearing Cas’ trenchcoat and it feels so wrong under Dean’s hand.

“Did Cas see him?” Dean asks as Chuck and Sam rush down the hall.

“Maaaybe,” Lucifer taunts. “Maybe not.”

Dean grabs Lucifer by the collar, Cas’ collar, and shakes him. The archangel lets himself be jostled slightly. “Don’t fuck with me, you son of a bitch.”

Lucifer smiles coldly. “You should be thankful daddy dearest has me on a leash for the time being because I would just  _ love _ to eviscerate you right now. Just like I did this precious little meatsuit that father oh-so-conveniently pieced back together. Ironic how that worked out, isn’t it?” He pauses, grinning proudly and running his hands over the front of his vessel. “And no, your little angel-for-hire wasn’t awake to see whatever the hell that little mudmonkey doppelganger is. But they’ll both find out eventually.”

Dean scowls at him and hurries down the hall while Lucifer shouts after him, “And when they do, I’ll be sure to pop some popcorn!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading and leaving feedback. <3
> 
> Just to clarify, Dean's flashbacks in italics are out of chronological order.

“When is he gonna wake up?” Dean asks impatiently after approximately three seconds of hovering next to his bed, now occupied by the human version of Cas. Future Cas? Only Dean met him in the past… Past-Future Cas?

“It’s hard to tell,” Chuck says, squinting at Cas like the fallen angel is some sort of lab experiment. The comparison is probably not too far off-base.

“How did he get here? An angel?” Sam asks.

Dean knows that the only angel left on that God-forsaken earth that this Cas came from was Lucifer. Proudly wearing Sam. Dean wonders if his brother was somehow strong enough to take control and convince the devil to send Cas here, possibly as an apology for breaking Dean’s neck with Sam’s foot.

“No,” Chuck states, sounding a bit annoyed by the questioning. “There’s an aura of powerful pagan magic lingering around him. Only a hint of something angelic, probably a spell ingredient or footprints left over from Castiel’s grace.”

“So then–” Dean’s mouth snaps shut against his will. He tries to frown at the rude celestial being that did it but finds it impossible. Instead, Dean gives his hardest glare.

“Look,” Chuck tells him. “I know you two are curious about our surprise guest.” Concerned. Dean is concerned. And yeah, curious as well. But mostly concerned. “But I have other matters to attend to. You can let me know when he wakes up.”

Chuck nods a goodbye, about to disappear. Dean hums loudly and points to his mouth.

“Right, sorry,” Chuck says, sounding a bit like his old, fake self. He unseals Dean’s mouth and then vanishes, this time without nearly burning anyone’s eyes out.

“I don’t know who is more difficult to put up with. Squirrely, skittish, semi-useless Chuck or almighty, child-abandoning, douche-nozzle Chuck.”

“I don’t either,” Sam says with a sigh.

Dean closes the door and pulls up a chair next to his bed. Sam stands on the opposite side, observing Cas, just like Chuck had been.

“Will you stop looking at him like that?”

Sam looks up at Dean with wide eyes. “Like what?”

“Like he’s some middle-school science project or some frog you’re about to dissect,” Dean snaps. He feels strangely protective of the unconscious man.

Sam hits him directly with the puppy dog face. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’m just… He looks so  _ different _ . That world really messed him up. I mean, we’ve seen our Cas at his lowest. Human, even. It was never this bad. What the hell could have done this to him?”

“We did,” Dean says roughly. “Every goddamn person in this bunker did this to him.”

+

“So there are other dimensions?” Sam asks yet  _ another _ question as Dean panics over the nearly lifeless body of Cas. Now Dean knows how God feels. Except Dean doesn’t know all the answers.

“Seems so,” Dean answers blandly. He presses his fingers to the fallen angel’s neck. His pulse is weak and a little slow, but it’s steady.

“So that world we got sent to where we were just actors and I was married to fake-Ruby, was that–”

“I don’t know, Sam! Will you give it a rest?”

Sam raises his hands defensively. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Dean is about to apologize, but then he thinks about what he said to Chuck and Lucifer about apologies. He knows he wouldn’t mean it.

“Why don’t you just fix something for him to eat and drink when he wakes up, okay? Soup, Gatorade… you know, sick people stuff.”

“Sure,” Sam says, taking one last look at Cas. “Just let me know when he wakes up.”

Dean knows that he’s acting a little too harshly towards Sam. All of the guilt Dean is feeling for what the future-him did to Cas, for not doing something more to help the fallen angel, he’s taking it out on Sam. Dean is taking the anger he feels towards the Lucifer and Chuck of both universes and projecting it onto his brother. His brother who went to Hell to save the world. His Sam, who prevented their Cas from turning into what lies in front of him now.

“Come on, Cas. Wake up for me.” Dean checks Cas’ pulse again. His carotid is easy to find because of how thin he is. Dean feels like if he presses too hard he might break something.

_ Dean felt Cas’ Adam’s apple bob as the fallen angel pushed Dean’s hand against his throat. _

_ “What are you doing?” Dean asked as Cas flexed his fingers and squeezed. _

_ “You... well, the other you loves this,” Cas explained as his airway was partially cut off. _

_ “Do  _ you _?” Dean asked. Cas stayed silent, staring off at the wall with a dazed expression caused by whatever shit he had pumping through his veins. _

_ Dean quickly pulled his hand away. _

Dean jerks his fingers back at the memory, even though he was only checking Cas’ heartrate. He moves instead to the former angel’s bony wrist. It’s harder to find a pulse there, but he feels too sick now at the memory of his fingers being squeezed around Cas’ throat. That future Dean took advantage of Cas’ unrequited love and… doesn’t Dean take advantage of his world’s Cas? Not in the way that the cold, friend-sacrificing asshole Dean did, but still, when was the last time the human and the angel just hung out for the fun of it? Or just talked as friends?

_ “When you get back to 2009, tell him how you feel,” Cas urged him. “Before it’s too late.” _

_ “I will,” Dean told him. _

Dean pushes all of that aside, along with the mountains of other things he’s guilty about. He’ll deal with it later. Possibly.

Dean looks down and realizes he’s been absentmindedly rubbing the top of Cas’ hand with his thumb. He wants Cas to wake up, to quell the ball of anxiety that grows inside his chest a little more with each second that Cas’ eyes remain closed. But a small part–a  _ very _ small, guilty part–wants him to stay this way until this war against Amara is over. How the hell are Dean and Sam supposed to explain their current apocalyptic situation? “Hey, Cas, we stopped Lucifer and Michael from baking the planet but now the devil is back because I turned into a demon and Sam released something worse and more powerful than Satan himself to save me”?

Dean doesn’t get any more time to think (plan?) because Cas suddenly stirs a bit.

“Cas?” Dean moves up towards the fallen angel’s head and cups his face. “Can you hear me?”

“Dean?” Cas grumbles, opening his eyes just a crack.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” Dean breaks into a huge grin, temporarily forgetting about all of the issues going on outside of his door.

Cas scrunches his eyes shut, then cracks them open again slightly. “Electricity. Not used to that.” Dean laughs a little, even though the implication of Cas’ words is quite grim. “Where are we?”

“Men of Letters Bunker, Kansas. 2016,” Dean tells him as he switches off a side lamp. “Safest and most heavily-warded place in the world.” Cas tries to get up and Dean hurries to his side. “Woah, woah. Don’t try to move just yet.”

Cas, still the stubborn son of a bitch, doesn’t listen. He uses shaky arms to push himself up and nearly topples backward. Knowing Cas probably won’t stop trying, Dean grips him by the shoulder and cradles the back of his head, pulling him up. He’s a little startled when Cas collapses forward into him.

“Cas, you still with me?” Dean asks, thinking the guy passed out again.

“I’ve missed you,” Cas mumbles.

_ “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much,” Cas told him, grabbing Dean’s face. Cas pressed his rough, tear-streaked cheek against Dean’s. _

_ “What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused by the intimacy that he never got from his stoic, angelic Castiel. “Don’t you see me all the time?” _

_ “ _ This _ you,” Cas explained. And then Dean froze as Cas started planting light kisses all over his face. His forehead, cheeks, even the tip of his nose. Cas had admitted he was stoned, but this went way beyond bizarre. _

_ “Um, Cas?” Dean asked, confused but not exactly complaining. “What exactly is the nature of the relationship between you and the other Dean?” _

“Me too,” Dean admits, holding Cas close. It’s the truth. Although Dean had thought that the Cas he met back then was just a figment of Zachariah’s twisted imagination, he has always cherished the time with him. The only time he was ever able to touch Cas in a non-platonic way.

Dean tries not to hug him too tightly; he doesn’t want to hurt him. He also tries not to breathe too much in through his nose. Cas smells strongly of weed but also of blood and sweat and weeks without washing. Dean is sure he’ll appreciate and savor the bunker’s water pressure even more than Dean does, which is saying a lot.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Cas says into Dean’s neck. “And did I see Sam?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s here,” Dean tells him. “And you’re still an angel.”

He hears a small gasp from Cas. “You stopped Lucifer?”

“Yeah,” Dean says nervously. “We stopped Lucifer.” It’s the truth, and yet it still feels dishonest. “Locked him and his brother back in the cage.”

“No croats?”

“Not a single one,” Dean assures him. That’s one thing they got right.

“I never lost faith in you, Dean,” Cas whispers. It’s like a punch to the gut. Cas will lose faith in him soon enough. “How did you do it?”

“Why don’t we wait a bit, huh? Long story,” Dean says awkwardly. He doesn’t want to raise Cas’ hopes in this universe just to have them fall even farther down when he finds out what’s happened since then. “Sam went to make you something to eat. Lemme just text him.”

Dean unwraps an arm from around Cas to take his phone out of his pocket.

“Wait, before you do that…” Cas trails off for a few seconds, pulling away slightly to meet Dean’s eyes. “Are you and… your Castiel together?”

Dean feels his face heat up. “No,” he says simply. Then he grabs his phone.

Cas takes the phone from Dean and eyes him curiously.

Dean feels like a kid in a classroom who just got asked by the teacher to summarize the last seven chapters of the book he never read.

“Look, when I got back a lot of shit hit the fan. There wasn’t time, and then Cas left, and then more crap…”

Cas raises an eyebrow. Dean knows he can see right through his bullshit. “In over seven years there wasn’t a single moment? Or you just never found the courage to let people see that part of you?”

“The second one, basically,” Dean sighs. “How did you and your Dean end up together...ish?” He knows they were far from a functional, monogamous couple, but that heartless Dean somehow didn’t care who knew about his inclination towards the occasional guy. How did that universe’s Dean one-up him in that department?

Cas laughs coldly. “Oh, you know. Typical rom-com scenario. He was drunk, I was falling, and we had just found out his brother had agreed to let the devil ride around inside him and destroy the world.”

“Do you regret it?” Dean asks. From the two days he spent with the pseudo-couple he saw nothing but abuse and damage.

“No,” Cas says sadly. “I know I should, but I don’t. I would do it all again.”

“Maybe you can,” Dean says. He doesn’t know how the words came out, doesn’t remember thinking them first. All Dean knows is that he has the sudden urge to kiss Cas. When Cas sees Dean’s eyes flicker down to his lips, it looks like he has the same idea.

Cas is the one to lean forward. As soon as their lips meet, however, there is a knock at the door. Dean abruptly pulls away, ashamed at the disappointed look on Cas’ face. He knows Cas isn’t upset that they were interrupted. It’s the way Dean reacted, like they were doing something wrong. Like Dean was ashamed.

“It’s Sam,” his brother calls from outside the door. “I brought food.”

Of course Sam had to come by right then. Dean never texted him, which means Chuck must have told him Cas was awake. Which means Chuck had been spying on them which means… he probably saw the kiss. Dean groans and covers his face, scooting away from Cas on the bed, his second mistake. +2 to the guilt mountain.

Cas quickly recovers from the rejection and breaks into a huge grin. “Come in, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas,” Sam says when he opens the door, balancing a huge platter in one hand. He seems nervous and Dean doesn’t blame him.

“I’m so happy to see you as... ” Cas clears his throat.  _ Not my genocidal archangel brother, _ Dean thinks. “I’m really glad to see you.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, face a little pink. “It’s good to see that you’re, er, alive,” he says. Dean stifles a laugh at the first meeting. His brother could have rehearsed a bit.  “I brought you some food,” Sam repeats. By “some food” Sam is referring to a shit-ton of food. Soups, sandwiches, fruits, mixed vegetables, Gatorade, orange juice, and coffee. Chuck must have zapped Sam in and out of a grocery store or conjured some of this stuff into existence with his self-given gift of creating things or something because Dean knows that the bunker was not nearly this well-stocked when Sam left the room.

“You must be hungry,” Sam says, looking down at the feast of assorted food. “I don’t know what you like to eat, so I just grabbed a bunch of stuff.”

“I am indeed quite famished,” Cas says, sounding a little more like his former, proper angel self. Maybe he’s trying not to throw too much change at Sam with his sailor-mouth. “And I’ve learned to eat just about anything. I’m afraid, though, that my stomach is only accustomed to very small amounts of food at a time. I’ll try, though. Thank you, Sam,” he says warmly.

“No problem.” Sam shuffles on his feet a bit before seeming to realize that he should probably  _ bring _ Cas the food. “We’ll have to get you some high-nutrition, small-portion stuff, then. Ensure, protein bars, stuff like that.” Sam places the tray on the bed in front of Cas, who looks amazed.

“That is very thoughtful, thank you,” he says kindly.

“No problem,” Sam says again, hands in his pockets. He’s looking at Cas with the astonishment that Cas is looking at the food with.

Cas is just picking up a carrot when there is another knock at the door. Dean’s stomach drops. Sam looks at him with a worried expression. Cas just seems curious as he bites into the crunchy carrot and eyes the door.

“It-it’s Chuck,” a meek, false voice from the past stutters. “Can I, uh, come in?”

“Chuck is here?” Cas asks excitedly, a bit of orange vegetable falling from his mouth onto Dean’s mattress. “Come in!”

Dean glares at God as he opens the door and acts like the lie that he told everyone he was for years. It’s not like Dean was expecting him to burst into the room unannounced with a bright aura and an angelic chorus to proclaim his holy presence, but Dean  _ did _ expect a little more time.

Cas really must have been starving because he greets Chuck through a mouthful of PB&J sandwich. “I’ve missed you so much.”

So God must’ve bailed in Cas’ world, too. Unless Chuck was only just Chuck there and died or something. More questions for later.

“Uh, thank you,” Chuck says, looking at his feet. Props to the Lord. He’s a good actor.

When Cas swallows he looks down at his body, quirking his head to the side. “Odd. I still feel like shit that got run over by a tank, but I feel…” He presses on his ribs. “Did someone heal me?”

Dean nods.

“Your Castiel?”

“No,” Dean tells him. He wants to just shove some more food in Cas’ mouth and tell him to stop asking questions and enjoy his newly-restored body for a few minutes.

Cas’ face brightens. “Another angel?”

“Um, no,” Dean responds. He looks around the room. No one else is deciding to pitch in any ideas.

“Then–”

“It’s complicated,” Sam says.

That is one hell of an understatement. Especially with Cas’ healer (his  _ father _ ), the Almighty Maker himself, standing there silently like the socially-inept, reclusive, novel-writing toilet paper hoarder that he convinced everyone he was.

The three of them are saved from further explanation in the worst possible way imaginable as the door bursts open. A cruel grin greets them all.

“Ah, look what decided to wake up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, big hugs for those who commented, subscribed, left kudos, etc. <3
> 
> I hope this chapter (hell, this whole fic) doesn't get too confusing with two characters named Cas/Castiel. (I especially say this chapter because for most of it Endverse Cas believes Lucifer is a douchier angelic Castiel so he is not thinking of him or talking about him using the name Lucifer.)
> 
> And sorry, all happiness from the last chapter is about to fizzle out. (Feel free to hate me. I hate myself every time I write.)

Cas looks around the room, hoping for someone to explain to him why this angelic version of himself was just a complete dick to him. Cas remembers his past issues with boundaries and knocking, but he can’t recall a time that he would ever snidely call a human a “what” instead of a “who.” Not to mention a human that was another version of himself.

“Okay,” Dean says, clasping his hands and hopping off the bed. “Why don’t we give Cas some space to recharge, alright?”

“I-I agree,” Chuck stutters. “Let’s go.” He looks pointedly at the angel Castiel.

The angel ignores Chuck and waltzes further into the room, closer to Cas. “But this is so fascinating! I’ve never seen an angel fall so far before.”

Cas looks around the room at the humans and prophet. Dean looks pissed off, Sam looks guilty, and Chuck looks scared. Cas is completely lost.

The angel version of himself leans over him. “It’s like he’s crashed right past human-level and gone full-on actual mudmonkey. Although he smells more like a dung beetle,” he adds as he leans over Cas. Dean tries to pull the angel Castiel away but can’t. “Probably a lot less useful, though, I assume.”

“Get the hell out,” Dean orders.

Cas can see now why Dean and his Castiel are not together. He doesn’t know why on earth the angel is with them here, though, if this is the way he acts now. Or why Dean spoke kindly of him when they talked a few minutes ago and Dean said he was just too scared to tell the angel how he felt.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cas questions. He’s more taken aback than actually offended. Back in 2009, when he was an Angel of the Lord,  if someone had shown Cas what would become of him after following Dean Winchester to the end of the world he would have never believed it. A promiscuous, foul-mouthed, depressed drug abuser.

But this version of Castiel, this angel who has powers and Dean and a planet not overrun by Satan and a demonic virus… what could have turned him so cruel?

The angel, dressed similarly to the way Cas used to, only with a different trenchcoat and a striped tie, holds up a hand. “Well…”

Sam rushes to try to pull him away, whispering, “Not now,” urgently. Castiel ignores him.

“‘What the hell happened to me?’ Great choice of words.” The angel starts holding fingers up, starting with his middle, pointed directly at the human version of himself in the bed. “Hell, for one thing.”

This Castiel spent more time in Hell?

“Dad, Death, Bobby Singer, the Winchesters, Castiel…”

Chuck, Dean, and Sam immediately turn to the human Cas, who feels like his head is spinning.

“Castiel?” Cas asks. Isn’t he looking at Castiel?

There are several protests from the Winchesters and Chuck but the angel continues to ignore everyone.

“Yes, that traitorous, human-loving, sad excuse for a Seraph. It’s a good thing he got what he deserved in at least one universe,” the angel sneers at Castiel’s human counterpart.

Cas leans his head against the headboard. He feels like he just dimension-jumped all over again.

“Who the fuck are you, then?” Cas asks. He hears Sam gasp a little at the profanity coming from someone who used to be a squeaky-clean servant of God. “And where is Castiel?”

“Oh, he’s in here,” the _thing_ occupying Jimmy Novak’s body tells him cheerfully. “Wanna say hi?” The mysterious being closes his eyes and leans his head down for a moment. Then the eyes open again and look around the room, squinting. The angel (Castiel now?) looks confused.

“Cas?” Dean asks hesitantly.

The angel breathes out a soft, “Dean,” and then Cas knows he is seeing the true alternate version of himself.

The real angel Castiel turns to the bed and cocks his head to the side. That familiar quirk. “Is this… that night with Zachariah…?” He leans forward, eyes curious but also compassionate.

“Yes,” Dean tells him, leaning from side-to-side. He looks nervous, but not like he thinks his Castiel is going to be anything like the other being that Cas just witnessed.

The angel lays a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Cas has no idea how to answer the question so he just responds with another one. “Are _you_?”

The angel Castiel’s face falls. “I’m so sorr–”

He’s cut off when the other being takes over and straightens up. He must be an angel.

“Okay, girl time is over,” he says with a cringe. “I feel like I need a shower. I would suggest you take one first,” he tells Cas, “but I’m afraid you might permanently contaminate it.”

Cas has spent so much time numbing out all of his emotions that he feels like he’s about to be torn apart by all that he is experiencing right now. He reaches down for his bag and pulls out a nearly-empty bottle of cheap whiskey and a bottle of Xanax.

“Cas,” Dean says. He doesn’t move to stop him, though.

Cas doesn’t remember the last time he felt this angry. Not only is Jimmy Novak’s body being taken over by a horrible angel, but it appears as though this world’s Castiel is a prisoner inside.

Cas dumps a few pills into his mouth and washes them down with the last few ounces of whiskey he has as the angel smirks.

“Wow, it gets even more pathetic.”

“Will you stop?” Dean grinds out between his teeth. His fists are clenched and his face is a dark shade of red.

“Probably not,” the parasitic angel says casually.

Cas has never encountered a brother or sister like this before. Not since…

But that’s not possible.

“Tell me who you are,” Cas orders.

“Oh, I can do better than that,” the angel says with a grin. “I can show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated and cherished. :)


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re gonna burn his eyes out!” Dean yells.

The mysterious angel bats his hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine. Right, Chuck?”

Everyone turns to the prophet who nods silently.

“Okay, that settles that. You mortals might want to step back and cover your fragile little eyes.”

Dean, Sam, and Chuck comply, although Cas hears Sam mutter, “This is not a good idea.”

“Are you ready, brother?” the angel asks.

Cas glares at him. “Just fucking get it over with.”

The former angel gets a laugh as a response. “I see patience is no longer one of your virtues,” the annoying angel remarks as wings begin to materialize behind him. Three huge pairs. Adrenaline courses through Castiel’s body, quickly eating away at the minor calming effects the Xanax and whiskey had given him.  _ An archangel _ . Not likely Gabriel; he was a brat but never had a condescending attitude like this. So that leaves three. All bad news. Cas feels his body shake with anger and fear. He doesn’t pray anymore, but if he did, Cas would pray for the archangel to reveal himself to be Raphael, despite Castiel and Jimmy Novak being completely decimated by Chuck Shurley’s protector. The angel being Raphael would make the most sense, considering Chuck is here and Michael and Lucifer… they’re in the cage.  _ They’re in the cage, _ Cas reminds himself. Why Raphael would use Castiel’s body is a mystery, though.

As the wings become more corporeal he sees that they have been singed by the pits of Hell. The feathers that aren’t burnt are the purest of white. They are the wings of the Lightbringer.

Cas feels the blood drain from his face immediately as he tries to breathe. He can tell that Lucifer knows Cas recognizes him, but still he reveals his face, the Morningstar’s face that was once beautiful and glorious. It is now mangled and grotesque, deformed from millions of years in Hell.

The rotted and bloody face smiles. Then Lucifer snaps his fingers and he looks just like Castiel again. “You can look now, mudmonkeys.”

Cas’ fight or flight reaction kicks in and, as usual, it’s fight. He surges out of bed, now feeling stronger and more stable due to the human epinephrine pumping quickly through his body. He hears three separate protests from his friends but they aren’t quick enough to stop Cas from lunging towards his traitorous sibling.

“Lucifer,” Cas growls. If he were still an angel he’s sure he would have shaken the walls and probably broken the glass of the mirror on the wall.

Instead, Cas breaks his hand on the archangel’s face. He’s grateful that his penchant for getting hurt as a human has heightened his ability to hide pain.

The Devil laughs. “You really don’t remember how that works?”

Cas ignores him and the sharp pain of moving his shattered bones and reaches for the empty glass liquor bottle. He hurls it at Lucifer who easily dodges it, letting it shatter against the wall. Satan backs closer to the trio behind him and Dean moves forward as Cas pulls a pistol out of his bag.

“Cas, you’re only going to make him angry,” Dean tells him desperately.

“I don’t care,” Cas snaps. At least it’ll sting. The humans scatter away from the Serpent. Cas aims the gun at Lucifer and fires four times into the archangel’s chest in succession. His brother stumbles backward against the doorframe, wincing for a few moments before his face shows nothing but rage.

“You should  _ not _ have done that,” Lucifer threatens, clutching his chest. He’s bleeding. Not dying, but definitely not healing as quickly as he should be. The Devil is not at full power.

Cas storms up to him, annoyed when Dean manages to wrench the gun out of his hand.

“Cas, please stop. You can’t beat him,” Dean begs. He grabs Cas by the waist and starts to pull him away. Dean is stronger than Cas by far but his efforts are thwarted when Lucifer tears Cas from the hunter’s grip. By the throat.

In the blink of an eye, Cas is a foot off of the ground and pinned to the door frame, looking into the Deceiver’s eyes while quickly losing oxygen. He clutches at the archangel’s hand as Sam and Dean make fruitless attempts to pull Lucifer off of him.

“Chuck, damn it, do something!” Dean yells.

“Lucifer,” Chuck says with a surprisingly calm tone. When did he grow balls? “Stop.”

“Would it even be worth it?” The Serpent asks. “You are quite entertaining.” His grip tightens, though, completely cutting off Cas’ air supply.

Dean’s eyes meet Cas’. The hunter is crying, something Cas hasn’t seen since 2009 when he found out Sam said “yes.” He and Sam are both yelling at Chuck.

Cas wonders if the brothers are trying to tell the prophet to call on Raphael for help. That’s really all Chuck could do besides tell them what’s going to happen, which is that Cas is about to die. At least Cas got to see Dean one more time. The Dean he fell in love with. Cas even got to kiss him for a moment.

Black blurs the corners of the fallen angel’s vision as he tries to keep eye contact with Dean. Cas wants his face to be the last thing he sees before he gets sent to who-knows-where. Does he have a human soul? Will Heaven accept him after what he became? His more likely options are Hell, Purgatory, or the Empty.  _ Please, not the Empty. _

As Cas’ eyes flutter closed there is suddenly a great power in the air, almost like a static. It makes all of Cas’ hairs stand on end. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt from a sibling, not even an archangel. Maybe Lucifer is in possession of a Hand of God. But then there’s a glimmer of fear in Lucifer’s eyes that tells Cas that a much more powerful being is present.

“I said STOP!” The voice sounds like Chuck’s, only it resonates with a force that makes Cas’ ears ring and the air vibrate.

The Devil looks at the now confident-looking prophet like he’s challenging him, not releasing his soon-to-be-deadly grip on Cas’ throat. But then the hand is gone and Lucifer is slammed against the hallway wall–no, he’s slammed deep  _ into _ it, straight through the stone. Whatever threw the archangel hadn’t even touched him.

Cas falls to the floor, choking and gasping for air. Dean’s arms are around him in an instant, pulling him close.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe.” Cas struggles to comply while trying to figure out what the hell just happened. He’s either dead, suffering from a hallucination caused by oxygen deprivation, or the timid and peaceful Chuck Shurley just tossed an archangel through a stone wall without lifting a hand.

“What the hell?” Cas gasps. “How did he learn to do that?”

“We can talk about that later,” Dean says hurriedly. “Come back to bed, I need to take a look at your injuries.”

“No,” Cas croaks, pushing away from Dean. It’s pretty difficult but eventually, Dean backs off.

“You have a lot to process already,” Sam says, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking. “You don’t need to add more yet.”

“Like hell,” Cas coughs, clutching his throat. “I need explanations. No ordinary prophet can do what I just saw.” Chuck looks to the floor. “You said another angel didn’t heal me. Was it Chuck?”

Cas notices that in the chaos his gun had been tossed to the floor. He takes advantage of the fact that all eyes (aside from his brother, who Cas takes a moment to happily remind himself is currently stuck in a wall) are on the (possible) prophet. It goes unnoticed when he grabs it and stuffs it into the back of his jeans.

Lucifer stumbles out of the wall, wincing. He starts a slow clap. “It’s smarter than it looks!”

“I did heal his damaged brain cells,” Chuck admits.

Cas glares at him with skepticism and anger. “Who are you?  _ What _ are you?” They told him another angel hadn’t healed him. Perhaps they were using the annoying loophole of “archangels are different than angels” to throw him off. So far Dean and Sam have omitted some pretty fucking life-changing facts about this new world.

When Chuck doesn’t respond, Cas asks, “A Knight of Hell? Raphael? Michael? Gabriel?”

“Extinct, dead, caged, and dead,” Lucifer replies casually. Cas hardly has time to mourn for his brothers before Lucifer continues, gesturing at Chuck. “Worm, meet dad. Dad… well, you’ve met worm.”

Cas stands up, though he’s afraid his legs will give out at any moment. Chuck’s–no, God’s–face remains neutral. Cas feels like he’s falling all over again but in a completely different way. Like he’s plummeting to the ground like a meteor traveling thousands of miles an hour, wings burning off. Not at all like the slow and excruciating way that he lost his Grace when the angel’s left and his wings began to rot and had to be sawed off.

Cas takes a good look at his Father. It’s possible that the apocalypse didn’t happen because He announced His presence. But Dean said they put Lucifer back in the cage. Now the Devil and the Lord are under one roof.

“Is this true?” Cas asks Chuck.

The Creator nods his head.

Cas tries to rationalize things before a dreadful question claws its way into Cas’ overwhelmed mind.

“And in my universe… was that You too?”

There’s a pause for a few moments and Cas clenches his non-injured fist.

“I’m afraid so, son,” Chuck confesses.

“Don’t call me that,” Cas orders, not sure if being strangled made his voice sound tougher or more pathetic. Not that he could possibly intimidate the Father of the Universes in any way. He doesn’t care, though. Cas feels neglected and long-ignored wounds caused by betrayal and abandonment being torn wide open.

He lifts the gun and shoots God in the head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as weird as it looks and as hellish as it is to edit, during scenes in Cas' POV God/Chuck will have pronouns capitalized (He, His) because although Cas has no respect for him, it would make sense for it to be ingrained in his mind to think that way. So don't be confused, if Cas says/thinks "Him", he's not referring to the Powerpuff Girls' villain.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean yells, grabbing the gun again. “Do you have a death wish?”

Cas doesn’t tell him that right now, he doesn’t give a shit whether he lives or dies. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the betrayal, or perhaps it’s the fact that this world may be just as fucked as the one he spent years trying to leave.

The devil laughs as Chuck gets up. The bullet is pushed out of the Lord’s forehead. He doesn’t look angry.

“I understand your anger,” Chuck explains.

“There is no way You could  _ possibly _ understand my anger,” Cas growls as he runs towards Him. He knows there is nothing he can do to hurt the immortal deity, but Cas doesn't care. Dean and Sam grab him but Lucifer rushes into the group and pries the brothers away.

“Let him have his fun,” the archangel says gleefully, though still clearly in discomfort from his injuries.

When Cas reaches his Creator he raises his right fist, forgetting that his hand is broken until it hits Chuck’s hand, who raised it to block the punch. Cas howls out in pain until an icy hot tingly feeling travels from his fingertips all the way through to his wrist.

This act of “kindness” only makes Cas angrier and he jerks his arm away. “I don’t want Your healing, you son of a bitch.”

Chuck doesn’t protect Himself from the next swing, or the one after that. In fact, He falls to the floor and  _ bleeds _ . He must be powering Himself down. Moments ago He pushed a bullet out of His head like He was popping a zit, and now He’s bleeding from a few punches from a weak and slightly intoxicated fallen angel who is now straddling Him.

“You stood back and watched as Lucifer destroyed humanity!” Cas yells, shaking the man beneath him. He hears the crack of his Father’s head against the marble flooring.

“Ooo,” Lucifer comments. “Intriguing.”

Sam and Dean tell the Devil to shut up before continuing to yell at Cas to stop. Neither attempts to stop the chaos have any effect.

“You watched me fall. You watched me turn into this hopeless excuse for a human while You… collected toilet paper?!” Cas punches Chuck again.

“Wow, I’m actually glad I didn’t pop angsty Cas’ head off of his shoulders,” Lucifer chimes in. “Go worm!”

“You knew Dean was sending us into a death trap. You know Lucifer was going to snap Dean’s neck under his boot.” Cas lands his hardest right-hook yet at the haunting memory. He splits the God-man’s cheek.

“Ouch,” Lucifer says in mock remorse. “Was I wearing Sam? Please tell me I was wearing Sam.”

Everyone ignores him. Cas looks down at the “prophet” he once considered one of his closest friends. His  _ only _ friend after the massacre killed the rest of the camp.

“And then You disappeared,” Cas laments. Chuck nods, His face covered in blood. Why is God, who still has His power, letting Cas do this?

“Could You have stopped it?” Cas asks. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sees a tear fall down onto Chuck’s face, mingling with the blood.

“Yes,” Chuck croaks.

“You bastard. As Your son, I prayed to You. As Your friend, I trusted You. I risked my life for You. And the whole time You were betraying me. Forsaking me.” Cas gets ready to throw another punch.

“Cas, that’s enough!” Dean yells, struggling against Lucifer.

“No, I don’t think so,” Cas grinds out, using all of his measly strength to strike his Maker again. “Can You even feel this? Does this even hurt?”

Cas raises his arm again but stops when Chuck says quietly, “Yes. Very much.”

Cas isn’t sure if He is only talking about the physical pain or also the emotional hurt, but either way, Cas is taken aback. So is Lucifer, apparently, because Dean slides out of his grasp and pulls Cas off of Chuck.

The fallen angel doesn’t know if he’s angry with Dean or not. Cas decides to figure it out later and leans back against the hunter’s chest, panting from over-exertion.

Chuck still isn’t healing. It’s like He’s suppressing the automatic divine physical response. But why? Did He want to be punished?

“We all need to talk later,” Chuck says shakily. “You need more rest,” He tells Cas who laughs cynically.

“ _ Now _  You care about what I need?”

Chuck just looks at him sadly and heads down the hall, a smug Lucifer and a reluctant Sam in tow.

“Cas,” Dean says hesitantly, helping his friend up off of the floor.

“Be quiet,” Cas says, leaning heavily on Dean, who wraps an arm around him. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but Dean is still Dean. He knows the hunter kept things from him for his own good.

Cas sits down on the bed as Dean takes a seat in the chair next to it. Cas grabs a bottle of painkillers from his bag to help with the pain in his throat, which he’s sure is heavily bruised. He takes a few more than the recommended dose and of course, Dean opens his mouth.

“I said be quiet,” Cas reminds him, though his tone is more defeated than harsh. He takes a few sips of orange juice and manages about a quarter of PB&J sandwich before his stomach starts churning. Cas gives up and puts the tray on the floor. He lies down on the queen-sized bed, leaving a big space next to him.

Dean looks at him questioningly before Cas rolls his eyes and pats the mattress. Dean slides off his shoes and climbs in. He seems to be considering any unspoken boundaries Cas may have put up. There are quite a few inches of space between them.

With a slight groan, Cas reaches for Dean’s arm and rolls them into a spooning position, Dean cradling Cas. It’s how they fell asleep and woke up back in 2014 in Cas’ cabin and it gives him great comfort now.

Dean nuzzles into the back of Cas’ neck. “You really do need a shower.”

“Screw you,” Cas mumbles, very little venom in his tone. As heavenly as a long, hot shower sounds right now, especially if it involved Dean, Cas just got strangled by the Devil and beat the shit out of God. Cas needs sleep.

He gets it within seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback keeps me writing and updating, it's much appreciated!


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